The Football Field
by SpencerRemyLvr
Summary: How different would things be in Spencer's life if he'd had a best friend to call on in all those horrible moments that he's been through?


_This is unbeta'd, folks, so any mistakes are m'own. :) I've had this on the back burner for a while and I finally wrapped it up. It's a part of a series I want to write called "A Progression of Memories" that shows Spencer and Remy's friendship over the years. AU, obviously. It was born of a conversation that cr8zymommy and I had and it's been helped along by her and Hissy. This is basically me taking Spencer's life and writing it out as what I think it would be like if he had a friend. How different would things be in Spencer's life if he'd had a best friend to call on in all those horrible moments that he's been through? I hope you enjoy this, my lovelies! Warnings - violence towards a minor in here._

* * *

Cruelty was something that eleven year old Spencer Reid knew all too well. He'd felt the sting of it too many times already. Being the smartest kid in school had pretty much guaranteed that. In elementary school it had earned him black eyes and bloody noses, people stealing his bags and his books, or being shoved inside lockers. Being in high school—well, let's just say that being eleven didn't garner him any protection when he was stupid enough to show up some of the kids in his classes. No one liked to come off looking less intelligent than a little kid. Spencer ended up spending more time stuffed inside of lockers, or even tossed into the dumpster a few times. The fists that came at him here knew better than to aim for his face, but it hurt a lot more when they aimed for other places that his clothes hid.

The little boy was no stranger to violence or the cruelty of kids. Over the years he'd grown used to it. Used to their taunts, their threats. He knew how to mostly avoid the worst bullies in the school, how to get to class without going to places where he might be caught or cornered, which paths were the safest ones to walk home on. He'd learned and he'd adapted and consoled himself with the promise that this was the start of his final year here. If he did everything the way he planned, he might actually graduate this year, the youngest ever to graduate from here at twelve years old. It helped him stay strong as the new year started and the bullying picked up just like always. _I can handle it_ he told himself over and over. _I've dealt with it for years. I can handle this._

But nothing that he'd gone through had prepared him for this.

He'd been so stupid. So absolutely, utterly stupid. For the rest of his life he'd curse himself for his idiocy. But when Harper Hillman came up to him in the library and told him that Alexa Lisbon wanted to meet him behind the field house, he hadn't really been thinking about anything but the fact that Alexa—the prettiest girl in the entire school—wanted to meet with _him_. Really, that should've clued him in. he should've seen it right then. Why would the prettiest girl in school, the quarterback's girlfriend, want anything to do with him unless it was for schoolwork? For that, she would've come to him, not had him come out behind the field house. Spencer never stopped blaming himself for his stupidity.

Alexa was waiting for him back there. She smiled sweetly at him, and Harper patted his shoulder, and he'd stupidly gone over to her, not noticing anything wrong until it was too late. By the time he realized that there were others there, the entire football team was already converging upon him. Spencer tried to run; God, he did! He tried to dodge past their hands and race away. When one grabbed his book bag, he didn't hesitate to sacrifice it. Whatever they had planned he knew it wouldn't be good. No good could come of this. But one small body stands no chance against an entire football team. He was caught before he could get far and what came next was the start of one of the most humiliating moments of Spencer's childhood.

With a whole crowd of people watching them, the members of the football team yanked Spencer out of his clothes, laughing in the face of his cries and pleas. When he got too loud, a fist to the stomach was enough to take his air and keep him from screaming—or breathing, really—while they yanked his pants and underwear off. Another blow kept him silent and had him bent over as they hauled him to the goalpost. His arms were yanked behind his back and he found enough strength to start struggling again when he felt the rope start to wrap around his wrists.

No, they couldn't do this to him! "Stop!" He gasped out, his voice cracking, much to their amusement. "Please, stop it! Let me go!"

"Look at him, Keith!" One of the other players shouted out. He grabbed Spencer's chin, jerking his face up and making him cry out. That only made him laugh more. "The baby's crying!"

"He's faking it." Harper's voice came next, full of so much disgust that Spencer flinched back from it.

"She's right. He's just faking." Another voice agreed, this one male. It sounded like another player, Joe. "He doesn't really feel things like us. My Dad says he doesn't have a soul, that's why his eyes are all white like that."

The rope around his wrists tightened and then another was put around his ankles, anchoring them to the pole, and Spencer cried out again, well and truly trapped. His back was to the goalpost and his hands were tied on the other side of it while his feet were now held in place so there was no getting away. He was stuck here, naked, nose bleeding from his fight to get free, forced to listen to their taunts. He tried to squat down, to curl his body up as tightly as possible, but they only yanked him back up. It was hell. Absolute hell. Spencer knew he was breaking his own rule here by crying in front of them but he couldn't seem to make it stop. The tears just streamed from his eyes, mixing in with the blood on his face from his nose. It only made them laugh more. Why were they laughing at him? What had he done to deserve this? Spencer blinked his eyes and looked at the people nearby, people who were just standing there and watching them torture him. "Help me!" He called out to them. "Please, help me!"

No one moved. Keith, the quarterback, gave a nasty laugh. "No one's gonna help you, freak. No one gives a damn about you."

There was something on Keith's face that truly terrified the young kid. A sort of glee at the sight of Spencer's fear and pain. His eyes raked over Spencer's body in a way that left Spencer feeling sick without quite understanding why. Keith was looking at him like Spencer had seen boys in the locker room looking at the magazines they weren't supposed to bring to school. Why on earth was he looking at him like _that_?

Spencer wanted to cry out, to demand they leave him alone, but the panic had grown too strong and Spencer felt that horrible, all-too-familiar sensation in his throat that told him his voice was gone. Usually he could get himself calm before that happened; it had happened all the time in elementary school. His throat would just lock up and no matter how hard he tried, the words wouldn't come. That's what happened now. His terror and anxiety stole his voice away so that all that came out was a pitiful sounding whimper. It was the only sound that he could manage as they taunted him, throwing out their horrible words, sometimes reaching out to slap at him and laugh as he flinched.

How long they stayed there, he didn't know. The group watching disappeared first. Then one of Keith's entourage called out something about going to get something to eat, and Spencer watched with renewed horror as Joe gathered up Spencer's clothes and then everyone turned and _walked away. _They actually walked away and left him there! Spencer wanted to scream out at them, to beg that they come back, give him back his clothes, _untie him_, but terror was still locking down his throat and nothing more than pitiful cries came out. As the field emptied and Spencer realized that he was well and truly alone, he couldn't keep the panic from flaring up, making him jerk and thrash in his bonds. He fought to break free harder than he'd ever fought anything before. The panic was so strong, so powerful, he couldn't think around it, could barely even breathe. He didn't notice the pain in his wrists from struggling at his bonds, too caught up in trying to get _free_.

It was the sound of someone's voice that finally broke through Spencer's wild thrashing. He heard someone cry out "_Fils de putain_!" and every inch of him instantly went still while wide eyes went searching out the owner of that voice, trying to see if it was someone coming to taunt him more or someone who might help.

When he saw who it was, he was surprised. It was their transfer student, Remy LeBeau, who had come up this year from New Orleans. Though only sixteen and the new kid on the block, it had only taken him half of his first day to charm pretty much everyone that he met. Students and teachers alike loved him. Even Keith, who was a senior and who didn't really like anyone but his team and his girl, took a liking to him. Not even his mutant eyes, those red and black eyes that had everyone calling him Diablo, could turn people off him. In the two weeks since school had started, the Cajun's popularity had only grown. He was bold and brazen, a prankster, a giant flirt who didn't care about gender and who was absolutely shameless about it all, and friendly with pretty much everyone.

He sure didn't look friendly now. He looked shocked and furious as he hurried across the football field. The trademark sunglasses were gone and the red irises were practically glowing.

"_Merde._" Remy spat out when he got close. His eyes ran over Spencer and back to his hands. "Jus' a second, petit. Remy's gonna get y' down from dere."

Despite the reassuring words, Spencer couldn't help but flinch when Remy got close, drawing back from the hand that reached out to him. "Shhh." Remy soothed him, not touching him. He moved around behind him and Spencer heard a sharp gasp and what he guessed were more Cajun curses. Then, "Dis is gonna hurt, petit. Jus' hang on and Remy's gonna get de ropes off. Jus' hang on."

Oh, God, the guy was letting him down. He was really going to let him down. Spencer couldn't stop the relieved sob that burst free when he felt Remy take hold of the ropes. Remy must've mistaken the cry to be one from pain because he started trying to reassure him again. The words were pretty much meaningless to Spencer at the moment. He could only focus on the tug of rope until it finally dropped free. Even as his hands dropped down, his shoulders screaming at the change in position, he felt Remy unhooking the rope from around his ankles. The instant that rope was undone, Spencer tried to step away, to move away from the pole, but his foot barely held any weight on it and he went down before he could even think about stopping it.

"Woah dere. Stay dere, petit, get y'r legs working again b'fore y' try moving." Remy cautioned him, hurrying forward. It took effort, but Spencer didn't flinch back when the teen dropped down beside him. Pain was a pretty good distraction. Everything _hurt_. His stomach, his nose, his wrists and ankles, his arms. Not as bad as he'd had some days, sure, but enough that he knew he was really going to be able to feel it tomorrow. The muscles in his arms would probably be the worst. They'd bore the brunt of it as he'd been grabbed and hauled to the goalpost and as he'd thrashed around in his panic attack.

There was a sound of rustling cloth and Spencer tipped his head up to see Remy dropping his jacket to the ground and then pulling his shirt up and over his head. "Here, let's get dis on y'. Remy don't see y'r clothes nowhere round here."

Spencer drew in a breath and carefully blew it back out. He tried to say something, to explain that they'd taken his shirt, but a low, garbled sound was all he managed and he quickly snapped his jaws shut, grimacing. Not quite back to talking yet, then. Remy didn't seem to mind. He reached out for Spencer, stopping with a hand right over him but not quite touching yet, and his unique eyes found Spencer. "Imagine y'r arms are pretty sore. Y' let Remy help y' get in dis? Jus' wanna get y' in a shirt so y' got somet'ing on, dat's all. Will y' let Remy help?"

A short nod was the only answer Spencer could give. He flinched at the first touch out of habit, and again when they worked together to get his arms into the sleeves. Remy grimaced as he quickly got the shirt on and settled around him. "_Désolé, _petit." He apologized.

Having something to cover himself with went a long way towards helping Spencer steady himself once more. The tightness in his throat was starting to fade a little bit. That meant speech should be back soon. Not fast enough, but soon. Spencer wanted to look up and tell his rescuer thank you. He wanted to thank Remy for getting him down and for giving him the shirt so that he wouldn't have to keep feeling so exposed. But his voice wasn't back yet and he didn't know if he could even bring himself to look up at the teen. His shame and embarrassment were way too strong for that. What he wanted more than anything was to be at home in his bed. There he'd be free to curl up and hide for a while. Free to let the pain out without anyone seeing him. Spencer drew aching arms in and wrapped them around his waist. He tried to push the pain down. He needed to get out of here. He needed to get home.

Remy made a soft sound at the obvious sight of Spencer's distress. He shifted once more, not reaching out to touch Spencer but moving around until he was kneeling in front of him instead of at his side. "Listen to Remy, petit. Listen to Remy's voice." Remy's words were spoken in a low, steady voice, packed full of something solid and steady and comforting. "Y'r safe. Whoever did dis, dey aint here no more, and dey aint gonna get y', not while Remy's here. No one's gonna touch y'. Remy won't even touch y', not unless y' say it's okay. Y'r safe, y' hear? Anyone dat wants to come try anyt'ing, dey'll find out just what kind of mutant Remy is. You. Are. Safe."

Shockingly enough, Spencer believed him. He had no idea why; he just knew that he did. Remy's words eased some of the fear inside and brought the panic down a little lower. Low enough that Spencer dared to try his voice. He looked up through his bangs and focused on calm and controlled breaths. Then, in a whisper of a voice, he managed two words. "Th-thank you."

The smile that lit Remy's face was blindingly bright. "Y'r welcome, petit. Is dere anyone y' want called? Y' want Remy to call y'r parents, or maybe de police?"

"No!" Spencer forced the word out, wheezing only slightly. A deep breath brought it under control, though just barely. "No, don't c-call anyone. I j-j-j…ust want to g-go home." Cops were the last thing he needed. It would just cause more trouble with the kids here at school and it would bring unwanted attention to Spencer's home life. There was no telling what frame of mind his Mom might be in when he got home and he didn't need cops there witnessing it if things weren't quite right.

The stuttering and stammering didn't seem to bother Remy in the slightest bit. He didn't even blink an eye at it. Nor did he seem the least bit bothered by Spencer insisting on not calling anyone. He just nodded at Spencer understandingly. "Of course y' do. Remy's got a car right over dere. Y' t'ink y' can make it over dere? Y' aint in no shape to be walking to wherever home is."

No, he definitely wasn't in any shape to walk home. Could he make it over to Remy's car? Spencer looked over in the direction Remy pointed and he gauged the distance to the parking lot. Well, no real choice. Like it or not he had to make it over there. It was either that or he could lay here until his legs started working right once more. That definitely wasn't an option. "I c-can make it."

"_Bien._ Let's get y' up, den."

Getting up involved way more work than Spencer really wanted to do. It also meant he had to accept Remy's help, no matter how the touch made him jump. But he was pleasantly surprised to find that Remy had an amazingly gentle touch. The Cajun helped Spencer to his feet with careful hands, keeping him steady, and he kept a watchful hold on him as they started to make their way across the football field, moving slow in deference to Spencer's pain filled steps. The pain kept Spencer from thinking about much of anything the whole way over to the car. He was too focused on putting one foot in front of the other and keeping any sounds of pain locked behind his teeth.

The ground changed under him, grass shifting to pavement, and Spencer winced at the feel of the small rocks underneath his feet. Thank God it wasn't that hot today or his feet would be burning. "A little bit more, petit. Jus' a few more steps." Remy reassured him.

Sure enough, a few more steps and then Remy was stopping him, helping brace him up with one arm while reaching out with his free hand. Spencer looked up through a screen of hair and saw a black car door as it was opened and held wide. Then Remy was moving him again and Spencer let the man help him down into the seat. He sank down with relief, not even minding the ache in his ribs. It just felt good to get off his feet.

While he got settled, Remy moved away towards the trunk. There was the sound of it opening and then closing and suddenly Remy was back in the open door. He squatted down, putting himself down towards Spencer's height, and the young genius saw a bottle of water and a rag. "T'ought y' might like to get y'r face all wiped off." Remy explained as he twisted the cap on the water. He poured it onto the rag and then looked up at Spencer. "Y' wanna do it or y' mind if Remy does it?"

Spencer darted a quick look around to try and see if there was anyone watching. If there were people nearby, he didn't want to be seen over here. But the idea of cleaning up before going home was appealing. He didn't want to risk his Mom seeing him like this.

"Dere aint no one close by. Plus, anyone going past would see de other side of de car, not dis one. Dey wouldn't be able to see what y'r doing." Remy said softly.

How had he known what Spencer was worrying about? Spencer brushed that question off. He gave Remy a small, jerky nod, the only answer he could manage at the moment, and Remy seemed to read that perfectly. He nodded back and then lifted his hand to gently start wiping the blood off Spencer's face. He worked quickly and carefully. Spencer barely felt any pain from it. As he worked, Remy looked his face over. "De nose don't look broken _mais _it's gonna bruise up somet'ing fierce."

Spencer winced at one particularly sore spot when the rag brushed over it. "Th-Thank you f…or helping me." He stammered out. He was getting just a little more control and his voice was slowly returning to normal.

"Of course, petit." Remy's eyes flickered up towards Spencer's and there was something of compassion and understanding in there, mixed in with something else that Spencer didn't really know. "Remy couldn't just leave y' dere."

"Everyone else d-did." Spencer said before he could stop himself.

Remy froze, the rag pressed to Spencer's jawline, and his eyes widened. "_Quoi_?"

The word took a second for Spencer to place. Oh, 'what'. Shrugging one shoulder like it was nothing, like it was no big deal when really it was a huge deal, Spencer dropped his gaze down off to the side. "There w-were all sorts of k-kids there. They just, they just _laughed_." Why had they done that? Why hadn't they helped him? There'd been people in the crowd that he'd talked to in school before. Kids who he had thought were, if not friends, were at least _friendly_. But they'd stood there and laughed with everyone else. They hadn't helped him.

A low stream of words in an indecipherable stream of French slid from Remy. When he lost steam and wound down, he surprised Spencer by dropping his hand enough to squeeze Spencer's shoulder. What he said next was the last thing Spencer expected. "Let's get y' home, petit."

Surprised, Spencer found himself blurting out the first thing that came to mind without thinking about it. "You…you're not going to, to ask questions?"

Remy smiled and shook his head. "It aint hard to guess what happened. What's de point of making y' tell it over, hm? De only t'ing Remy wants to ask is who de hell de _connard_s were dat did dis to y', _mais_ y' aint gonna tell, are y'?"

Quickly Spencer shook his head. He didn't have a death wish. There was no way in hell he was telling on them.

The sigh Remy gave sounded sort of resigned. It matched the half smile that quirked his lips. "Dat's what Remy t'ought. So, he's gonna settle fo' doing what he can, an dat's getting y' safely home." He gave Spencer's shoulder one last squeeze, gentle enough not to make the aching muscles even worse, and then he pushed up from his squat and moved away. He shut the passenger's door and then made his way around the car and slipped into the driver's seat. "Where's home fo' y', petit?"

Spencer gave him the address and Remy nodded. The car roared to life and then they were moving, pulling out of the parking spot and making their way away from the school. Spencer curled up in his seat, drawing his knees up underneath the shirt in an unconscious effort to hide more of himself, and he found himself turning towards the window to look over at the field as they started to head away. His mind felt like it was running so slow. Like he was wrapped up in one of those thick woolen blankets his Mom brought out in the winter time. Everything seemed sort of distant right at the moment. Not quite real. He didn't realize that the sensation he was feeling was shock. This all seemed so surreal to him. Over and over his mind was repeating one thing: Why?

Why would they do this to him? Why did they hate him so much? Why did he have to be punished like this just for being smart? Why, why, why?

"Hey." Remy's voice cut through the panic that had slowly been building in Spencer and snapped his attention out of his head and towards him. "Breathe, petit. Remember what Remy told y'—y'r safe now. Dey can't get y' no more. Y'r safe."

"For now." Spencer choked out. He closed his eyes and dropped his forehead down to rest against his knees. "They'll c-come after me again. They always d-do."

"De hell wit' dat. Don't de teachers do anyt'ing about it?"

Spencer shook his head against his knees. He was coming apart, he could feel it. He was starting to come apart at the seams and he didn't want to do that here. Not with an audience. Not in front of this person he didn't even really know. Bad enough the teen had seen him naked and tied to a goalpost. Spencer wasn't going to make it even worse by completely coming apart in front of him. Remy seemed to realize that Spencer wasn't in a place to be pushed, either. He fell quiet and didn't speak again for the rest of the ride. Not until he had his car parked in front of the address Spencer had given him.

The car was put into park and Spencer heard Remy's low voice tell him "We're here, petit."

Those words were enough to have Spencer uncurling from the protective ball he'd been sitting in. He looked up and was relieved to see his house. His hands shook slightly as he unhooked the seatbelt. _Just a little further. The house is right there. Just hold on a little longer._ With that litany repeating in his head, he gathered what control he had and looked over at Remy. The compassion in those unique eyes was almost his undoing. "Thanks again. F-For, y'know, everything." Spencer almost whispered the words, but Remy heard them. He nodded at Spencer. "Of course."

Spencer's hands were still shaking when he reached out to open the door. But he got it open and he got his legs underneath him. A deep breath for courage and then he was shutting the car door and darting up the walk to the front door, hurrying to try and get inside before anyone saw him running past in just an oversized, baggy shirt. He didn't look back as he darted through the front door, so he never saw that Remy stayed parked there until he was inside and the door was shut.

Luck was finally on his side; his mother was back in her bedroom when he got inside. She didn't see as he darted back to his room to grab fresh clothes, or as he ran into the bathroom to take a fast shower. The shower was one of Spencer's sanctuaries. There was no one around to see if he broke down a little in there. No one to notice if he curled in on himself and fought to breathe. And the water washing over him hid any traces of the tears he usually refused to let fall.

* * *

The weekend went by slowly for Spencer. The bruising on his face turned awfully colorful and he knew it was something he wasn't going to be able to hide when he went back to school. He'd already had to explain it to his mom three different times—she forgot things a lot—and he'd been lucky she bought his story about tripping and falling. Hopefully the school would too. He would just have to make sure they didn't see the rope burns on his wrists. The ones on his ankles were easy to hide, thankfully. One of them had bruised up pretty badly. The bruising on his stomach was easy to hide, too. It was his face and his wrists that he had to worry about.

Come Monday when he realized that his wrist marks were still visible, he had to settle for pulling out a pair of fingerless gloves and slipping them on. At least the weather was cool enough that it wouldn't look too suspicious. He dressed slowly and carefully that morning, more reluctant to go to school than ever before. What was going to happen? He'd been bullied so many times at school but it had never been like this. Things had never been this bad. He'd rather they threw him in the dumpsters again with all the trash than go through what he'd been put through on the football field. Would they try something like that again? Would things get even worse? He was absolutely terrified to find out.

Eventually, though, he couldn't put it off any longer. Not if he wanted to make it to the bus in time. So he gathered up his courage, picked up his backpack—which had magically appeared on his porch on Saturday, though he didn't know how or when it was put there—and prepared to face whatever was coming.

When Spencer stepped out his front door to head to the bus stop, the very last thing he'd expected to see was Remy's car parked on the street in front of the house. Remy was leaning against the passenger's door, casually smoking a cigarette. At the sight of Spencer his lips curved up in a friendly smile and he pushed himself off the car. "_Bonjour_, petit." He walked right up to Spencer and flashed him a grin. One finger lifted to brush light as air across Spencer's bruised nose. "Looks better dan Remy t'ought it would."

"It's fine." Spencer said slowly. He furrowed his brow in confusion. "What are you doing here?" Only after the question came out did he realize just how rude it sounded.

To his surprise, Remy laughed. "Y' aint exactly one fo' beating round de bush, are y'?" Remy teased. He surprised Spencer again by reaching out and catching his backpack strap, tugging it down off his arm and taking it from him. He slid it up over his own shoulder and gestured with his hand towards his care. "What does it look like Remy's doing here? He's giving y' a ride to school. T'ought y' might like dat better dan taking de bus today."

Spencer eyed him suspiciously as they made their way to the car. There was nothing overt that worried him about this. Yet… "I get the feeling there's a little more to it than that."

More laughter bubbled from Remy. He opened up the passenger's door, stretching in to set Spencer's bag in the backseat. Then he stepped back and held the door wide, grinning broadly at Spencer. "Course dere is. Dat gonna stop y' from saying yes?"

It almost did. Spencer knew that what he didn't know could often get him into serious trouble. But Remy hadn't done anything to indicate that he couldn't be trusted. In fact, he'd done the opposite. He'd proved himself to be someone trustworthy when he'd rescued Spencer and taken him home. Spencer cocked his head and looked him over. Remy didn't back down. He met Spencer's eyes without a flinch, just arching a brow at him as if in question, and Spencer had the answer to his question. No one, aside from his mother, had ever been able to meet his pure white eyes without flinching. The corner of Spencer's mouth quirked up and he shook his head. He moved past Remy and slipped down into the car.

Spencer waited until Remy was behind the wheel and the car was pulling away from the curb before he spoke. "Thank you, for, you know, dropping off my backpack."

"No problem." His eyes flicked briefly towards Spencer and then back to the road. "How y' doing?"

"I'm fine." Spencer said the words automatically, as he'd said them countless times before. His arms tightened just a little around his bag in his lap.

Surprisingly, Remy didn't call him on that. He stopped at the stoplight and brushed some of his auburn hair back from his face to look over at Spencer. "How'd y'r parents take it?"

"I just said I fell." His cheeks heated a bit and he turned his gaze to look out the window, away from Remy's face. "I'm clumsy enough it was believable. My Mom didn't question it." Not that his mother really questioned anything these past few days. She'd missed a dose of her medication while he was at school on Friday and it had taken the weekend to get her back on an even sort of keel. In a surprising moment of candor, Spencer shrugged one shoulder and stared down at his backpack. "It's not like it's the first time. I've become adept at telling her what she needs to hear."

A small grimace crossed Remy's face. "_Désolé, mon ami. _No one should have to get used to dis shit."

Why on earth was Remy being so nice to him about all of this? This guy was just too nice for his own good. He was kind and friendly and Spencer couldn't remember the last time someone close to his age had showed those kinds of emotions towards him. More than anything he wished he could take the hand of friendship that the teen was extending towards him. But, he couldn't. He couldn't do that to him. Gathering up his courage, Spencer squared his shoulders. His eyes went towards the window, though. He couldn't look at him. "You should drop me off before we reach the school." He said flatly.

"Why?" Remy asked.

"Because the last thing you need is to be seen with me. You're new, you don't know how it works, but trust me, it's common knowledge that being seen with me in a casual sense is a quick way to make a plethora of enemies."

To Spencer's complete and utter shock, Remy gave a disgusted snort and announced "Fuck 'em."

Those two words were enough to have Spencer's head snapping around so that he was staring at Remy with wide eyes. "What?"

"Y' heard me. Remy said fuck 'em. Y' seem like a nice enough kid, Spencer, and dat's what counts. Who y' are is de important t'ing to Remy, not what other people t'ink. Our friendship is our own business, not deirs." He stopped the car at the corner to wait for clear space to go and he used that time to look over. "If someone's gonna hate on Remy fo' being seen wit' someone, den dey wasn't really an _ami_ to begin wit' and it's better to know dat now."

There was maturity in those words that was strange for a teenager. Spencer had only ever heard adults talk like that. No teenager he'd known had that kind of maturity or sensibility. They all wanted nothing more than to rise in the social hierarchy no matter what the costs. But not this strange man. Spencer watched Remy look back out at traffic and zip the car out into an opening. They were just blocks away from the school now.

Remy peeked over at him and smirked at the look on Spencer's face. "Shocked y'?"

"You could say that." Spencer answered. "Maturity in one your age is so very odd. You talk almost like an adult."

"Aint dat de pot calling de kettle black." Remy teased him. He flashed a grin over at Spencer. "'Sides, Remy been told he talks like shit. T'ick accent, bad grammar."

"Speaking in the third person."

"Exactly."

"I'm not referring to all of that, though. I don't mean speaking like I do. The way I speak isn't adult. I talk like a walking dictionary, I've been told. You speak like…like you're older inside than you are on the outside." It was the best description that Spencer could think of. Remy spoke like he was an adult living inside of a teenager's body. He spoke nothing like the teenagers that Spencer was used to dealing with. Caught up in his thoughts, Spencer once again fell into his bad habit of speaking his thoughts out loud. "I don't understand you. You don't react to any of this the way I expect."

For a second Remy didn't answer. He focused on pulling in to the school parking lot and finding himself a parking spot. It wasn't until he'd parked and turned the car off that he finally turned towards Spencer and asked "How's dat?"

"You didn't leave me there." Spencer said first. It had been the honest reaction he'd expected at first. "You didn't insist on calling the cops, the principal, or even my parents. You didn't act pushy and try to take me into the house. You didn't nag me about what my injuries were. You didn't demand to know who did this. Not once have you made a joke or laughed at me for it all, even though I was n-naked."

Remy's expression softened and his eyes dimmed slightly. "Dere wasn't not'ing funny bout any of it."

"My point exactly." Spencer exclaimed. "No one else would've reacted like that. In some ways, you acted more like an adult than like your actual age. In other ways, you acted like…I don't know. Like no one I've ever met."

"Den y've met a bunch of _connards_." Remy snarled. At the confused look Spencer gave, he translated. "Assholes, petit. Y've met a bunch of assholes. Someone being nice to y' shouldn't be a confusing t'ing."

There wasn't really anything Spencer could say to that. He settled for shrugging one shoulder—which sent an annoying twinge through the still sore muscles—and dropped his eyes back down. Remy didn't press it. He reached out and startled Spencer by ruffling his hair. "C'mon, petit. Let's get on in dere. Remy gots a feeling y' aint de type to like to be late."

Spencer scowled as he quickly ran a hand through his hair so it wasn't standing up anymore. "I've never been late." He said firmly.

Remy's laugh echoed in the air as they climbed out of the car.

* * *

The teen just kept surprising Spencer. He found Remy waiting outside the room after all three his morning classes. After first period, Remy was lounging against the lockers by Spencer's math class, hands stuffed down into his pockets. How on earth he got there before Spencer got out was a mystery. Spencer was one of the last out the door and he hadn't been expecting anyone. So when he saw Remy lounging there, he didn't really think that he'd be there for him. Not until Remy pushed off the lockers and moved over to him with a smirk. "Hey, petit. What class y' got next?"

"Chemistry, with Mr. Toppnesh." Spencer answered cautiously.

"Mr. Toppnesh? Aint he de one wit' de toupee dat looks like a dead animal?"

That drew a startled laugh from Spencer, who ended up wincing at the way it made his nose and face throb. "He's a good teacher." He defended. Toppnesh was one of the few teachers that didn't seem all that bothered by having Spencer in his class. He barely noticed him, really. Today, that was exactly what Spencer needed. Too many people had already noticed his face and had been laughing or pointing over it. He'd taken to sitting even more hunched than normal in the hopes that his hair would help hide his face. It wasn't helping that the bruising all throbbed.

Remy snorted and rolled his eyes, falling into step at Spencer's side. "He's creepy, dat one." And for the rest of the walk there, Remy kept Spencer chuckling with playful words and teasing commentary. When they reached the class he patted Spencer's shoulder and told him to have fun and then slipped off through the crowd. Spencer watched him go with a curious look.

It was the same way after that class was over. Remy showed up outside the room right when Spencer came out and he escorted him to his next class. Spencer didn't get a chance to ask about it. But when he came out of third period and found Remy lounging nearby once more, he had to ask. "What exactly are you doing, Remy?"

Remy grinned at the blunt question. He looked over top his sunglasses at Spencer and his expression was amused. "Y' held out longer dan Remy t'ought y' would. T'ought y'd ask de first time. Didn't t'ink y'd hold out till lunch."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"_Non_, it didn't, did it?"

Smirking, Remy tossed his arm around Spencer's shoulders like it was the most normal thing in the world. He ignored Spencer's instinctive flinch and just left his arm there. "C'mon, petit. Lunch is waiting and Remy's hungry enough his stomach's trying to eat itself."

"That's impossible." Spencer said before he thought about it. "It's not physically possible for one's stomach to eat itself." Abruptly he realized what he'd done, that he'd corrected someone yet again, and he winced. When was he going to learn to control his mouth and keep from correcting everyone? Remy had probably been using a simple figure of speech. It was highly doubtful he wanted some kid correcting him on something he hadn't meant seriously. No one ever did. His mouth got him into this sort of trouble all the time.

There was no chance for Spencer to apologize for his words. Remy spoke up before he could. "Y' sure?" He asked, tugging on Spencer to get him moving. "What if a person's got a mutant stomach or somet'ing like dat? Like, deir mutation makes for a stomach dat literally eats fo' dem, or tries to eat dem from de inside out?"

Was he serious? "That would be a horrible mutation. How would the person survive if their own stomach ingests them?"

"Well y'd have to feed it all de time, of course. Dat way it wouldn't eat y'. Imagine de grocery bills!"

Their ridiculous conversation continued all the way to the lunch room. But when they stepped in and it seemed like hundreds of eyes turned their way, Spencer found his voice slowly drying up, a bit of his stutter slipping in. He didn't even realize that he stepped in just a tiny bit closer to the man beside him. But Remy felt it and he kept his arm around Spencer's shoulders and led him over to the lunch line, picking up the slack in their conversation. Spencer stopped answering at all. He'd stopped really paying any attention. All he could focus on were all the eyes on him, all the whispered conversations and laughter that he could see traveling the room.

All morning long he'd been able to distract himself from the looks and whispers by focusing instead on the mystery that was Remy. Trying to figure out the Cajun's reasons for acting the way he was had worked as a great distraction. Until now. Now, there was no avoiding this. Not when everyone was talking and laughing and _pointing_. It didn't take a genius to know what they were talking about. His shoulders hunched and he drew in on himself just the slightest bit. Mortification ran through him. They were all talking about _him_. About what the football team had done. They were _laughing_ at him. People he barely knew, people he didn't know, that he'd never done anything wrong to, were laughing at him, taking pleasure from what had been done to him. How could they? What had he ever done to them that they would find his pain funny?

The arm around his shoulders moved and Remy's hand settled on Spencer's shoulder, giving a careful squeeze. Spencer peeked up through his bangs and found Remy looking down at him with a steady, strong look. "Chin up, petit. Don't give em de satisfaction of seeing y' low. Chin up an y' walk wit' pride."

Spencer gave a tiny little shake of his head. He couldn't do this. What had he been thinking, coming in here? Rarely did he ever eat in the cafeteria. Why he had come in here today of all days? He should've known that everyone would be looking and laughing. He was the talk of the school. So many of them had seen him. So many of them had been there, had left him there._Damn you. What did I ever do to any of you?_

Somehow he kept putting one foot in front of the other. He walked where Remy led him, letting the man steer him to the lunch line. He took the tray when Remy handed it to him and his hands clenched down so tightly on the edges that his knuckles went white. Remy stepped close enough that their arms brushed and he dropped his voice down low so that only Spencer could hear it. "Jus' a little more, Spencer. We're almost done. Jus' a little more and Remy'll get y' outta here. Promise."

Almost done? What was going on here? Spencer knew he should be analyzing that and trying to figure out what was going on. From the sounds of it, Remy had some sort of plan, something he was doing, and Spencer knew he should care more about what it was. But there was no way for him to ask about it. His voice was gone. That feeling in his throat was familiar and he knew without even having to test that no words would come out. He couldn't even speak to tell the lunch ladies what to put on his tray. Remy seemed to realize that. He spoke on Spencer's behalf. What he picked, Spencer didn't know and he didn't really care.

They made it through the lunch line and out into the cafeteria when it finally started. Remy was steering them past a table and over towards the far end of the room when Spencer heard voices calling out to him. "Hey, Spencer! Lookin' good! Love the mask!" Someone called out to him. Another voice called, "Look, Alexa, it's your little boyfriend. Spencer, Spencer, over here. Alexa wants you to sit with her." There was more laughter and another voice, this one Joe's, called out "Aw, guys, I think we've embarrassed the little baby."

"Naw, it looks like he's made himself a new friend." Keith said. He turned around from the table and smirked at Spencer and Remy as they moved past. "Got yourself a new friend there, Spencey?"

Remy brushed his arm over Spencer's and murmured "Keep walking." That was definitely advice that Spencer could follow. He tried to quicken his step to get past that table as fast as he possibly could. _Let that be the end of it, please_ he pleaded silently. Of course it wasn't. Nothing was ever that simple. "Hey!" Keith snapped. "Don't you ignore me." There was the sound of movement behind them and Spencer braced himself for the inevitable grab. Only, it never came. Remy twisted and stepped behind Spencer. The whole cafeteria was watching as Remy deliberately placed himself between Spencer's back and Keith's outstretched hand. "Now, now, none of dat, _homme_." Remy told him, shaking a finger at him. "Y' keep y'r hands to y'rself."

Shock jolted Spencer. Had Remy really just said that? The young genius turned and looked on with wide eyes at the two teens squaring off. Remy was still standing in Keith's way, his arms crossed over his chest now and his body clearly saying he wasn't planning on moving. From around Remy, Spencer could just see Keith. It was the first time since the football field that Spencer would look at him. So far he'd managed to avoid the entire football team. This wasn't how he'd expect it to go when he finally ran into them, though. Keith was gaping at Remy in obvious surprise. Then his expression quickly morphed to one of scorn. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Jus' lookin' out fo' _mon ami_, Keith." Remy said simply.

The whole cafeteria was riveted by this little display. Remy was blatantly challenging one of the most popular boys in the whole school. No one messed with Keith. _No one._ Yet Remy was standing there smirking at him without a single ounce of worry on his face. Spencer wondered if Remy had some mental disorder that he hadn't warned Spencer of. The man had to be crazy to stand there and taunt Keith. Didn't he realize just how much trouble he was bringing on himself? Reaching out, Spencer caught Remy's sleeve and gave it a discreet tug, trying to tell him without words to just back off. If they just left, maybe it could prevent any trouble. Remy ignored it.

Keith's face tightened into angry lines. "Stay out of this, LeBeau." He growled threateningly. "This doesn't concern you. Just move along and mind your own business."

"Now, dat aint true." Remy said, shaking his head. "It concerns Remy plenty. Y' see, Spencer's _mon ami_, m'friend, and what happens to him concerns Remy a whole hell of a lot."

"Him? That kid?" Keith looked over at where Spencer was peeking around Remy. He gestured towards him with one hand. "You're really gonna start this shit with me over some little freak, LeBeau? Think about this. Do you really wanna do this?"

Though Spencer couldn't see it from where he stood, a sharp grin stretched over Remy's lips. "Oh, _oui_."

"You're making a big mistake." Keith warned.

"Remy aint de one dat's made a mistake." All of a sudden Remy's posture me and even Spencer felt the aura of danger that he was exuding. Remy took a single step forward so that he was right in Keith's face. It seemed like the whole room was holding its breath. Conversation had died away completely and everyone was staring, waiting to see what would happen and who would walk away from this. Spencer was holding his breath too, wondering what was going on, what was going to happen. He watched as Remy leaned in just a little bit closer. "Y'r de one dat made a mistake here, Keith. Y' hurt dat kid back dere. Remy don't put up wit' shit like dat and he aint gonna let it happen no more. It stops, now. Y' keep de hell away from Spencer, y' and all y'r little gang here, or it's gonna be Remy dat y'r dealing wit'. De boy's under my protection now. Y' touch him, y'll answer to Remy."

"You think you scare me?" Keith demanded. Behind him, his friends rose up from the table and came to stand behind him.

A quiver ran down Spencer and he started scanning around him looking for a quick exit out just in case things went bad. He sure as hell wasn't going to stick around in here if fists started flying. What the hell was Remy thinking?

But the group didn't intimidate Remy at all. He didn't back down. Instead, he smirked. "Remy don't t'ink, _homme_. He knows." He moved his tray to one hand and waved his other hand. Cards appeared between his fingers with that gesture. A second later the cards started to glow a faint pink.

Everybody moved back. Keith almost stumbled into his friends, he stepped back so fast.

Remy's smirk grew. "See." The pink vanished from the cards and they disappeared up his sleeve once more. "Remy aint unarmed. Y' seen what he can do, y' know he make t'ings blow up. Jus' y remember dat de next time y' wanna try and mess wit' Spencer. He's under Remy's protection now. If Remy finds one single mark on him, if de boy gets a _hangnail, _Remy's gonna come fo' y' and give y' a personal demonstration of what he can do wit' dese cards. _Comprendre_?"

Spencer had never seen anyone respond so quickly. Every one of them gave quick nods. Remy took a step back from Keith and gave a nod of his own. "Good." Reaching out, he patted Keith's shoulder, chuckling when the man jumped. "Glad we had dis talk, Keith. Real glad." Turning back towards Spencer, he smiled down at the young man. "C'mon, petit. Let's go eat outside b'fore lunch is over."

They'd only took one step when Harper's voice called out to them. "You just made a big mistake, Remy. You're not supposed to use your powers at school. You just got yourself in a ton of trouble."

Tipping his head, Remy threw a wink to Spencer while calling back "Sounds like fun."

"The only reason you're even allowed in here is cause your Uncle paid the school a shit load of money. That's the only reason they let in a freak like you." Joe called out bravely.

"Yeah, well, y' was just kissin' dis 'freak's' ass yesterday, so what's dat say about y', eh Joe?" With that last parting comment, Remy put his hand against Spencer's back and steered him out of the room, leaving a stunned silence behind them.

They stayed quiet until they were outside. Remy kept steering Spencer, bringing him over to a grassy hill near the side of the school. They both settled down there with their trays beside them. Remy set his down by Spencer's and then otherwise ignored it. He stretched out, long legs kicked out in front of him, and reclined back on his hands. Spencer folded his legs and bowed his head down a little so that his hair worked as a screen. He looked through that screen and discreetly watched Remy's face. His throat felt a little more relaxed and he thought he might be able to talk. It was worth a try. "W-W…why…" Dammit. He paused and cleared his throat, concentrating on evening out his breathing. "W-Why'd you do th-that?"

He appreciated that Remy once again didn't comment on his stuttering, just as he didn't comment on the fact that Spencer had been so silent before. "It needed to be done." He tipped his head back and shook it, letting his hair fall behind him, and Spencer thought that his eyes must be closed behind his sunglasses. "Dey wouldn't have let y' alone after dat, petit. From de sounds of t'ings, dey've been torturing y' fo' a while now. Dis latest t'ing, it was de biggest one yet, _non_?"

Spencer had to swallow down the lump in his throat before he could manage even a soft "Yes."

"Once dey realized dey got away wit' it, dat no one was gonna do anyt'ing to stop em, dey would've kept on and it would've got worse. But now dey know dat y' got someone to stand up fo' y', someone dat aint gonna take deir shit and dat can more dan fight back, and dey'll back off. Others will, too, once dey hear about dis. De story's gonna spread fast. By de end of de day, everyone's gonna know y'r under Remy's protection."

He was right about that. Tales of the new kid challenging the quarterback would spread like wildfire through the school. People would talk for weeks about it. But Spencer didn't think it was going to work out the way that Remy planned. "It might keep some back, but Keith and his friends won't just back down. This will only encourage them to take us both out instead of just picking on me. Or they'll just wait until you're not around."

"Dey might, if Remy planned on leavin' y' alone." Remy said smugly. He tipped his head and there was a flash of red from the side of his sunglasses. "Remy aint gonna put y' at risk. All dis is to keep y' safe, not paint a target on y'. Don't y' worry, Remy aint gonna let dem get to y'. Dey'll back off eventually. Dey aint gonna risk finding out what it is dese cards can do to him." The last part was said with a laugh.

How was he so relaxed about this? Spencer picked at his food, poking absently at the vegetables in one corner of the tray. He kept his head down as he said "You made a lot of enemies in there. All for one kid you don't even know. You shouldn't have done this, Remy."

"Like Remy said earlier, he don't need friends like dat. Why would anyone wanna be friends wit' a bunch of _connards_ like dat? Anyone dat would be dat cruel as to do what dey did to y', dey aint worthy of cleaning de shit off m'shoes."

That sparked another question, one that hadn't occurred to Spencer until now. "How'd you find out?

For a moment Remy stayed quiet. When Spencer snuck another look up, he found Remy glancing over at him with sympathy on his face. "Remy's good at finding out what he need to know. _Désolé_, Spencer, fo' invading y'r privacy like da. Dis whole t'ing t'day, it was kinda high handed." Remy paused and gave a sigh. "M' Papa would tan m' hide fo' doin' all dat an not warning y' first. It was an shitty t'ing to do. _Je suis désolé._"

Spencer had enough French knowledge to know that those words were an apology. He waved a hand dismissively in the air and then picked up some of the fries off his tray. "No need to apologize. High handed though it was, your intentions were good. No one's ever done anything like that for me. I…" He flushed a little and dropped his a little more, cursing his complexion and his easy blushes. "Thanks." He finally murmured.

Yet again, Remy showed a keen respect for Spencer's emotions and he didn't say anything for a bit. The two just sat there in silence, Remy enjoying the sun and Spencer slowly working his way through his tray of food. It gave Spencer a little time to relax from the stressful confrontation and to start to put his thoughts back together. As he did, little things stuck out to him and had him wondering, curious about the man beside him. Remy was such a confusing person. So different than anyone that Spencer had ever met. Something that Joe had said played back in Spencer's mind and his curiosity grew. He carefully watched Remy through the screen of hair, hoping his staring wasn't noticeable. He hoped in vain. Without opening his eyes or even turning towards him, Remy suddenly said "Can feel y'r questions, Spencer. What is it? Ask what y' want."

That brought Spencer's blush back. But it wasn't enough to stop him from asking the question he wanted to know. "Did your Uncle really pay for you to come here?"

Remy sighed and shifted his arms, moving to lie fully on the grass. He folded his hands behind his head. "_Oui et non_. Papa paid fo' it, _mais_ m' Nonc Ty set it all up."

"But…why?"

"Papa t'ought it'd do Remy some good to go to a regular school, away from everyt'ing at home. Life dere, it's complicated, an Remy don't exactly get de chance to try and be a regular teen, Papa t'inks. So he wanted Remy to come here fo' a year an give it a try. He said de schools here are de most tolerant of mutants, an Remy's getting better bout not blowing shit up all de time."

A snort slipped out before Spencer could stop it. Yeah, tolerant. Sure. So long as the rest of you managed to fit in. It helped if you were as charming as Remy seemed to be with others. He didn't seem to have any problem getting people to like him, mutation and all. Sure, some people whispered about him, and there were people who murmured about his eyes, but for the most part everyone seemed to like him here. It wasn't like that for everyone, though. Spencer had never found people tolerant when they looked into his pure white eyes. He wasn't even old enough to know what his power was going to be yet and people were already scared of him.

He was startled out of his thoughts when reached out and lightly slapped the back of his hand against Spencer's arm. "What about y'? What is it y' can do?"

"I don't know yet. I'm only eleven." Spencer said.

"Ah. Soon enough, den. Bet it'll be somet'ing good, what wit' dat brilliant mind y' obviously got in dere. Let's just hope y' don't get not'ing like dat insane stomach we was talkin' bout b'fore. Y' barely eat enough to feed a bird, let alone a mutant belly."

The teasing words were delivered with a bright grin that drew one out of Spencer in return. He shook his head at the ridiculous man lying beside him and he marveled at the relaxed feeling between them. Not in years had he felt something even close to friendship with anyone else. People worked so hard to avoid him, even the ones who liked him well enough, because they didn't want to have to take on the crap that came with being his friend-aka, Keith and the football team. No one wanted to cross them and they'd made it clear from day one in High School that Spencer was their favorite punching bag. But along came Remy and he rescued Spencer, got him home, took him to school and escorted him between classes—to keep him safe, Spencer realized now—and then he took on not only the football team, but publicly declared to everyone that Spencer was under his protection, and now he was sitting here hanging out with Spencer like it was no big deal. He'd given up friends, a social life, and had put himself at risk, all for Spencer.

The young genius looked at his new friend and made a promise to himself that he would make sure Remy would never regret doing this. And so their friendship was born, one that would last for the rest of their lives.


End file.
